Page 16 of Duke of Wickedness (Regency Gods #4)

But nobody had ever taught her what worked for a midnight meeting gown. She didn’t even know where they were going! Should she wear something elegant? Suggestive? She cleared her throat as an idea occurred to her. Should she wear something easy to remove?

Ultimately, she didn’t end up making a decision as much as she just ran out of time.

She had put on a sixth gown, which was actually one of Catherine’s castoffs.

It was pleasingly not proper, made from dark green velvet that was soft and sumptuous against her skin.

The heavy fabric draped in a way that made the dress feel more elevated than it was, and it was something she could put on by herself.

This last bit was critical because Ariadne was running low on bribery money, so she hadn’t dared involve her maid.

By the time she was finished lacing herself up, then craning her neck to make certain she’d actually done so correctly, then shaking out her head to counteract the crick that this produced in her neck, the clock on her mantelpiece told her that midnight was only five minutes away.

She supposed that rushing to get to a place was one way to avoid obsessing about whether or not one should be going to that place at all.

She crept down the back stairs, then even more quietly tiptoed her way through the kitchens, flinching at every shadow.

Edwards, their butler, was a notoriously light sleeper and could be regularly found puttering around in the night.

Ariadne had her own history puttering around in the night, and had, as a child, spent more than one predawn hour sipping cocoa with the man.

And while Edwards had been sweet and kind when she had been a child, driven from her bed by nightmares of the worst night of her life, she did not think he would be so encouraging to find her slipping from her bed and into the dark London streets.

It took Ariadne quite a few minutes to get out the door.

When she snuck past the mews, she found a carriage waiting.

It was unmarked, but it was too fine to be a hired hack, even in this highly prestigious part of Mayfair.

The door to the carriage opened as she approached, and the Duke of Wilds swung himself half out the door, a boyishly charming grin on his face.

“I was beginning to think you had abandoned me, my lady,” he teased.

She sniffed at him, but she allowed him to offer her a hand up to the conveyance. He was wearing gloves this time, thank the Lord.

“Not all of us can merely waltz out our own front doors without an explanation before we go somewhere,” she told him pertly as she arranged her skirts on the soft, cushioned bench. “I had to deploy my skills at stealth.”

“Oh dear.” He tsk ed, sounding more amused than sympathetic. “Nearly caught by the staff?”

She sighed. “I wish. No, I thought I was hiding from the butler, but I was actually hiding from the housekeeper’s favorite mouser.”

When he laughed, it didn’t feel as though he was mocking her. Maybe that was why she’d let honesty slip out so easily.

“Well,” he reasoned, “the house cat earns his keep on stealth. He’s a worthy adversary in this quest.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are ridiculous ,” she chided.

“It’s been said,” he allowed.

They lapsed into a brief silence that, to Ariadne’s dismay, was not uncomfortable in the least. Instead, it was far too comfortable, and it reminded her that she had, once again, let her guard down around this man.

She cleared her throat and straightened her spine.

The duke watched all of this with a great deal of interest.

“Where are we going, then?” she asked when she felt that she had regained at least some of her poise.

“You do realize that you don’t need to do that,” he said in lieu of answering her—because he was an irksome, irksome man.

“Do what?”

“And you’re a very bad liar. You should know that, too.”

She grasped frantically for the final shreds of her composure.

“I do know that, thank you.”

She must have gone a bit too far on the pertness scale, for the duke burst into unrestrained laughter.

“Lady Ariadne Lightholder,” he said. “You are a delight.”

Ariadne wasn’t entirely certain how to take that, to tell the truth.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or not?” she demanded.

With great deliberation, the duke uncrossed his legs, then recrossed them in the other direction. The movement made his legs brush against her skirts, not enough to be real contact, but enough to tease.

“You know, I don’t think I will,” the duke said while Ariadne struggled not to react to any of this. “I feel that you lack sufficient surprises in your life. I will rectify this. Feel free to thank me any time.”

He looked very happy with himself when she made a furious growling sound in the back of her throat.

The coach ride went on longer than Ariadne had anticipated; they crossed through Mayfair, then beyond the boundaries of Bloomsbury. The buildings got a touch less well-maintained, and the crowds in the streets grew a little more boisterous.

They stopped in front of a cluster of such noisy revelers. The crowd waited in front of a building that was unmarked, except for an old, faded sign painted into the wood paneling that had been done up so long ago that Ariadne could only make out the letter B before the rest faded into nothingness.

“What is this?” Ariadne asked, voice more awe than annoyance. The people here looked happy, downright giddy, and their clothing had the air of being their very best, even if it was a bit shabby at the edges here and there.

The duke’s eyes gleamed with mischief in the dim light of the carriage.

“My lady,” he said drolly. “Have you never had a proper night out at the theater?”